Love, Lies, & Thanksgiving Dinner
by DelicateKTheory
Summary: AJ has been in love with Jay Reso since college. When Jay invites her to Chris Jericho's annual Thanksgiving dinner, AJ is presented with the opportunity she has waited 17 years for. Will she ruin Jay's marriage or finally let him go?
1. In the Beginning

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

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As Jay embraced me, I was engulfed by the smell of his cologne. I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, and took a deep breath. I was in love with that scent—I was in love with the man in which that scent belonged to; I had been for years. However, I had enough inner-strength that I could dismiss that notion…until we were alone like we were now. It was the times we spent together without his other friends, without his wife Heather (who coincidentally was my other best friend) that my emotions would get the better of me. Some days a simple smirk or a green-eyed studious gaze sent my innards into an uproar; and then all I wanted to do was proclaim my love for him from the nearest rooftop.

"Uh…AJ," Jay chuckled, snapping me back into reality, "You can let go now."

"Sorry. Sorry." I quickly pulled away, practically shoving him in my haste to give him room. "I've just missed you is all. What's it been, nineteen days?"

Jay nodded and then stepped behind me to pull out my chair.

"Well, were the phones broken in Europe?" I asked as I slowly sat down. "You could have called me, you know?"

"Geesh," Jay laughed as he took a seat in front of me. "You sound like my mother."

"If I were your mother, you would have called."

"I didn't know I meant that much to you," Jay teased with that benevolent smirk.

The nearest rooftop, here I come…

"You don't," I fired back, but I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, "but it would be nice to know that you haven't fallen on your head doing some silly wrestling move and ended up in a coma."

"Well…" He leaned back in his chair, holding his rather chiseled arms away from his chest. "It looks like I'm coma-free…If something were to happen to me, man, you'd be one of the first ones to know."

"I would? When…nineteen days later?"

"All right, all right," Jay laughed, holding up his hands, "Truce."

I picked up my dinner menu in a dignified manner and then spoke without looking at him. "As punishment for your thoughtless behavior, you should know that I will be ordering the most expensive thing on the menu."

"Is that supposed to send me running for the hills? You always order the most expensive thing on the menu."

I smiled a little, looked up at him, and stuck out my tongue.

"Well, this time I'll order seconds."

He rolled his eyes in response.

"Then how—how will my poor little bank account survive? I guess, if you put me in debt, I'll just have to move in with you and torture you for the rest of your days." He smirked, adding, "Payback is a bitch, my dear."

I bit my lower lip and nearly melted into a puddle in my chair. Jay was in rare form this evening. Grant it, he was always a loaded sarcasm pistol ready to fire, but there was something different about it now. Not only was he teasing me, but it seemed a bit like he was flirting with me. It was common knowledge that, even though he was married, he still prided that ladies' man persona he had somehow developed over the years; but he was always careful about making passes at me. Did spending all that time in Europe re-route the circuits in his brain? Did he miss interacting with me that much that he felt the need to pull at my heart strings a little bit?

I inadvertently sighed aloud as I pretended to read the menu. After countless brunches here, I had the Alonzo's menu memorized. It served as a great prop for whenever Jay made me uncomfortable…which was ninety-percent of the time.

"What's the matter, kid?" he asked nonchalantly as he glanced over his menu.

Ah, there it was—the one word that distinguished the blurred line of our relationship; the one label that potentially dashed all hopes that he was flirting with me.

"Nothing," I replied with another sigh and closed my menu.

Jay looked at me with a raised brow.

"Well, quit doing that something's-bothering-the-hell-out-of-me sigh, because then I'm going to feel obligated to ask you what's wrong. Then you'll tell me what's bothering you and it will no doubt bother me; and then my mellow is going to be completely harshed, which will ultimately cause me to resent you and your problem for the rest of the day."

I furrowed brow.

"To hell with being an ECW Superstar, you belong on the damn Divas roster."

"Hilarious," Jay snarled with a phony laugh. "How long have you had that one stashed away in your funny bag?"

"Long enough," I replied with a tense giggle.

Jay smirked and stared at me for a moment. He stroked his ruggedly-trimmed beard.

"Hi, Jay!"

I cringed. Holly. Of all the waitresses, it had to be Holly. She was one of Jay's many exes. Unlike me, she hadn't given up on the dream that the planets would align, he would get a divorce, and then two of them would run towards one another, in slow-motion, across a field of wild flowers. And Jay, well, he was dumb enough to give her the impression that she was mistress-worthy.

"Good afternoon, Holls," Jay gave her a pleasant smile.

The vivacious redhead giggled and pointlessly blushed.

"Good afternoon," she said, giggling incessantly as she reached for her ordering pad. "What can I get for you and—" She turned to me with a look of distain. A look I had seen many times—"…you're _friend_?"

He ignored her tone and rattled off our orders without consulting me.

"We'll have your finest bottle of Cristal. I'll have a house salad, ranch dressing on the side; and the medium-rare rib-eye steak with pasta and a sweet potato. The lady will have the lobster tail, a loaded baked potato, and chocolate mousse for dessert."

I stared at him, slightly amazed.

Holly scribbled down the order. (She probably added arsenic to mine.) She took our menus, gave Jay a smile, me a snarl, and then scampered off.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he laughed, propping his elbows on the table.

"How did you know what I wanted?"

He smiled.

"Lobster was the most expensive thing on the menu. And since you're so hell-bent on draining me dry, I figured I might as well throw in a little dessert."

"That's all well and good, but I'm allergic to shellfish."

"Oh," he said, "Well, that could pose a problem, couldn't it?"

He threw up his hand to get another waitress over.

I laughed. "I'm kidding."

Jay feigned a hurt expression and slowly lowered his hand.

"Ashley Jean Papadakos. Why would you do that to me?"

"Because," I replied in an indifferent tone as I too rested my elbows on the table, "I hate how well you can read me…sometimes."

He shrugged. "Eh, it's a gift. I aced Female Body-Language 101 in college."

I rolled my eyes. "I know…I was your wingman, remember?"

Jay nodded, chuckling. "And what a shitty one you were."

"Well, it's not like you helped me out, either," I laughed. "You gave Adam the wrong dorm room."

Jay nodded, knowingly.

"I gave him the wrong room on purpose. As much as I love him, Copeland was not the guy for you. Trust me."

"According to you, neither was John, Kurt, Dean, Brad, or Micah."

"God, you were such a whore," he said with a crooked grin.

"Well, if you hang around someone long enough, they eventually rub off on you."

Jay huffed in response. "I most certainly was not a whore."

I snorted. "You're probably right. I mean, any man could have a bottom drawer dedicated to an array of mixed-matched bras."

Jay let out a hearty laugh and leaned back in his chair. He ran his hands through his bleach-blonde hair and flashed me a huge grin.

"Man, I've missed you."

"Awww, I feel loved."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt the atmosphere in the room change. The lightheartedness seemed to dissipate.

Jay stared at me for a moment; his green eyes darkened slightly, and then his smile twisted into a slight smirk.

"Yeah…something like that," he said.

Jay lacks a certain level of maturity, so usually during our long brunches I have a tendency to tune him out while he's engaging in a mostly one-sided conversation. He often spouts pointless monologues about his idiotic antics during his travels. All I have to do is smile and nod occasionally. He never notices a difference.

"Umm, AJ," he whistled, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blinked; slightly surprised that he was actually expecting me to participate in whatever it was he was babbling about. Wait, what had he been babbling about? What was the last thing he had mentioned? Wasn't it something about flushing the toilet while Chris had been showering? Or was it about how he locked Chris out of their hotel room while he was in his underwear? No, that was last week's story…wasn't it?

"Have you heard anything I've said?" Jay laughed at my blank expression.

"Honestly…you lost me after you asked if I wanted more wine," I admitted, looking down at my half-empty dessert cup.

"That was twenty minutes ago."

"So it was," I nodded.

Jay chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of wine.

"I was telling you about Thanksgiving plans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "so you might want to pay attention."

I laughed out of embarrassment, "Agreed."

"Chris and Ro-Ro are planning a huge meal at their house tomorrow; and then we're all taking his kids to the beach. It's gonna be a lot of fun. Are you in?"

"I don't know…Do you think that's a good idea?"

Chris Jericho and I were civil toward one another, but he wasn't exactly fond of me. He had never disclosed the reason why, but I knew. Jay and I were close…too close and to the point where it could ruin his marriage if Heather suddenly became uncomfortable with the two of us spending so much time together. Chris didn't want his closest friend to have to start over the way he had to. I understood that so I wisely kept my distance whenever Jay asked me to accompany him to Chris's holiday gatherings.

"It's a great idea. You, me, Heather, Chris, Ro-Ro—we're family. You can't have a proper Thanksgiving if one of us isn't present. Plus, it would be real shitty of me to leave you alone on the holidays."

I looked at him, but I didn't answer.

Jay leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

"If you don't go, then I won't go."

"Now you know you couldn't do that to Chris."

Jay nodded, adamantly.

"Oh yes I could…I get tired of him calling me a moron in some form or another. Plus, it's safer this way. Remember three Christmases when I accidentally knocked the tree into the brand new high-definition television set he had just set up?"

"If memory serves me correct, _I_ was the one that shoved you into the tree."

Okay, so that was probably the other reason why Chris didn't like me. That was a pretty expensive television; and Jay had difficulty replacing it because he couldn't find a duplicate that matched Chris's specifications.

"That's not the point…I'm a walking hazard sign. So I could easily take a trip to the emergency room with or without Chris present."

I eyed him.

"So, you're saying you would be willing to give up quality time with your wife and your friends to spend Thanksgiving watching slasher movies with me?"

"Yep," he replied without hesitation.

"That's slightly comforting. Odd, but comforting…I would never ask you to do that, though. I know your time at home is precious."

"You're not asking. I'm giving you my time."

There was a lump in my throat; one so big that it felt as though no oxygen was getting past it.

Jay sighed.

"Look, if you go with me to this, then I'll go with you next year. I'll buy us a couple of plane tickets, we'll fly out to Toronto, and I'll sit with your chain-smoking grandma and hear all about how I should be helping you find a husband."

I looked down at my empty dessert cup. When had I finished my chocolate mousse? I shook my head, as if to answer my own question.

"Still no, huh?" Jay asked with another sigh.

I gazed into his eyes. They had a desperate look in them. Why the hell was he pressuring this? Usually, when I said no, he let it be. What was different about now?

Against my better judgment, I once again found myself relinquishing to his charm.

"Nana's not a chain-smoker…That was Pappy," I replied softly, "and what time am I supposed to be at this thing?"


	2. John Stamos Circa 1980's

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

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"Oh God," I mumbled to myself as I watched Jay bound up my front steps to meet me. He looked exceptional today. He was wearing a black, short-sleeved dress shirt. He had the first three buttons unbuttoned; revealing a little bit of his chest. Those dark denim blue jeans were hugging his legs in all the right places.

"Are we swinging by the church on the way to Chris's?" I teased in an effort to hide my discomfort.

Jay smirked and gave me a quick once-over.

"Or we could just drop you off at the nearest street corner, because it looks like you aren't interested in being saved."

I blushed, looking down at myself. I didn't think my purple pleated corset top and jeans ensemble was inappropriate.

"I'm only teasing. You look fine," Jay chuckled, giving me a soft smile. "Heather's waiting in the car. Are you ready to go?"

I adjusted the small bag I had draped over my shoulder. It contained my swim-suit and a second change of clothes just in case Jay spilt something on me again.

"I guess so," I replied.

As Jay looped his arm around my waist and guided me down the steps, I looked into the driver's side window. Heather Mitchum-Reso was looking into the review mirror, applying a layer of gloss to her lips. As much as I love her, it is safe to say she is a stereotypical blonde-bombshell with everything going for her. She had the perfect hair, perfect body, perfect teeth…perfect man.

I shamefully cursed the day I had introduced Heather to Jay. It was our freshmen year of college. I had been tutoring Heather in calculus. When she finally managed to pass a test, she thought that it was appropriate to take me to one of those college parties to celebrate. Jay was big on the party scene (which he later sucked me into) and it was no surprise that we would find him at this particular party. Jay and I hadn't known each other very long at the time, but he sat next to me in our Philosophy course; and we went out for coffee on a few occasions.

I had spent a month and a half working up the courage to ask him out on an official date. Then he locked eyes with Heather that night, and the rest was history…painful, agonizing history. I never got the opportunity to tell Jay how I felt. So now here I am, thirty-five, single, and watching my best friend living happily-ever-after with the man of our dreams. Could I be anymore pathetic?

"Hi, AJ!" Heather sang as I slid into the backseat of her silver Sedan. She flashed me a smile—that smile that always came across as portentous; and if I didn't know her as well as I did, I probably would have taken offense to it.

"Hey, Heather," I greeted with a forced smile.

"Josh has probably beaten us to Chris's." She said to Jay as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Again," Jay groaned. "You've invited Josh again?"

"Yes." Heather answered flatly and avoided looking in his direction as she pulled the vehicle out of my driveway.

Josh was employed at the bank that Heather managed. Jay was openly opposed to his wife's growing affection for the twenty-four-year-old bank-teller. He had made the comment to me once or twice that their relationship was "unnatural." Couldn't the same be said about ours?

"He's alone for the holidays, too, you know. I thought it was important for him to be with us as a compromise."

"Was him going grocery shopping with us a compromise? What about when you invited him to help us pick out paint samples whenever we were re-painting the kitchen? Was that a compromise for him living a sheltered life?"

Even from the backseat, I could see Heather's jaw tighten as she glared at Jay out of the corner of her eye.

"I really don't think we should be arguing about this with AJ in the car."

"And I really don't think you should have invited the John-Stamos-circa-1980's-wannabe, but you did. So here we are, arguing about this with AJ in the car."

"Enough, Jason…This is the Thanksgiving, so let's just leave this where it's at and discuss it privately some other time."

"Who gives a flying fart on the planet formally known as Pluto if it's Thanksgiving, my birthday, your birthday, or our ninth wedding anniversary?" Jay spat, to which I had to stifle a laugh. "If you would quit inviting this guy to every family/friend function we're invited to, then I wouldn't have to discuss this publicly."

"Guys," I finally felt the need to interrupt, "if you're going to have a Jerry Springer moment, I would much rather walk to Chris's. Just let me out at the next intersection."

Jay laughed. It was a tense laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Sorry, AJ; from here on out, I promise to be on my best behavior," he vowed.

I was slightly surprised by the fact that he was offering me an apology as opposed to his wife. Was there trouble in fairy-tale land?

"And I promise not to shove you into expensive objects," I giggled.

Jay said nothing, but I caught glimpse of him grinning in the review mirror.


	3. The Big Boys Table

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

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To be honest, I hate living in Florida. I hate the humidity, the hot summers, and the fact that I haven't seen snow in about nine years. I miss Kitchener, Ontario, Canada, even though there wasn't much left for me there. After my mother passed away in 2001, Jay insisted that I move to Florida. (He had left for the United States a few years before because he had finally gotten a developmental contract with World Wrestling Entertainment.) He and Heather were married by that point and had already settled into their lake-view mansion, which just so happened to be three doors down from Chris's lake-view mansion, in Odessa. I stayed with the newlyweds for a couple of months until I was able to put my accounting degree to good use. I found a position as a tax collector for an office in Tampa, so I decided to stick around; mostly because of Jay.

As the Resos' Sedan came to a halt in Chris's driveway, I had control the impulse to remove my socks and shoes before stepping outside vehicle. Chris's mansion was modest (if one could call any mansion modest), but it also had this regal atmosphere about it. I always felt as though I would lessen the value of the place, if I didn't walk upon it with my bare feet. That's a silly ideology, I know.

"Oh, look," Heather gestured to the fairly new Jaguar we had parked next to. "See, I told you he would beat us here."

"Whoopty-damn-doo," Jay mumbled under his breath as he climbed out of the vehicle and came around to my side to open the door for me.

"Jay," I eyed him nervously, "Are you going to be able to make it through dinner without strangling this guy? The offer to watch slashers is still on the table."

He smiled.

"As long as he doesn't talk, I should be able to keep picturing him as Uncle Jesse and all is well. If worse comes to worse, would you be against pushing him down the stairs?"

I laughed. "Sure, but I could just as easily drowned him in the ocean."

He chuckled and gestured for me to walk in front of him.

My knees buckled as I felt Jay's hand on the small of my back. Heather was well ahead of us, so I was tempted to slow my pace. I wanted to relish the sensations that were brought on by such an intimate touch.

Rosalind, with her long brunette hair blowing in the slight breeze, was waiting for us on the front porch. I had only met her twice; the two times she had waited on Jay and I when we dined at Alonzo's. She was a pleasant young woman, very shy, and conservative—the polar opposite of Chris.

"Hi, Heather," she greeted in her usual melodic voice. "Happy Thanksgiving! Your friend Josh is already inside. He and Chris have been in Chris's office for the past half-hour. I can't seem to pry them away from Ted's old hockey stuff long enough for Chris to help me get Ash and the girls ready for dinner."

"That's what I'm here for, Mrs. Brady," Jay said, politely stepping in front of me to give Chris's girlfriend a hug. "I'm a full-time best friend wrangler and part-time baby-sitter."

"Just promise me that you won't accidentally set any of them on fire," Rosalind giggled as she pulled back.

"What? You don't like your Jericho extra crispy?"

Heather just rolled her eyes at him and slipped inside the house.

Rosalind giggled again, gave Jay a playful shove, and then turned her attention to me.

She smiled.

"Well, hello, AJ…It's nice to see you…while I'm off duty."

I chuckled in response and nodded.

Two girls crying in unison momentarily diverted our attention.

Rosalind looked back at the half-open front door.

"Looks like Ash has stolen the crayon box again," she noted with a sigh.

"I'm on it," Jay said as he brushed past her and disappeared into the house.

I felt awkward standing there. I didn't want to assume that it was acceptable for me to waltz right into the De Counte-Jericho household without a proper invitation, so I just stared at Rosalind like an idiot.

"I hope you're hungry." She smiled and gestured for me to accompany her inside. "I think I've cooked enough food to feed the U.S. Army. Chris eats like a horse, so I cooked double what I usually do since Jay is going to be here."

I laughed in understanding. Professional wrestlers probably consume more food than horses, but that's just my hypothesis.

Rosalind gave me a baffled expression as I removed my shoes once we stepped inside the foyer. I placed them neatly by the door.

"Please, make yourself at home," she said. "I'm going to have to go check on the sweet potato casserole."

I was about to nod, but she was already heading for kitchen. Shrugging, I moseyed through the foyer. I decided to take a peek at the dinning-room on my way to the living-room. Chris had this giant eight-place-setting oak table in the dinning-room. It was only used for special occasions, but I saw that Rosalind had decorated it to the nines. A beautiful white linen table cloth that was crocheted at the ends was draped across it, Chris's fine china was already put in place, and the silverware had been rolled, restaurant-style, into matching white handkerchiefs. The children had their own miniature plastic table next to ours. It was set in a similar fashion, but wisely everything on it was made of plastic.

"No, Uncle Jay, you're supposed to color inside the lines. Inside the lines," I heard a little voice reprimanding.

I chuckled and wandered into the living-room.

There was Jay, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, surrounded by children, coloring books, and half a dozen crayons. He gave the young boy reprimanding him a puzzled look, as he leaned over to see the mess the boy had made of his own picture.

"Well, you're not coloring inside the lines."

The blonde-haired boy stared at him for a moment.

"Hello…I'm six," he said, matter-of-factly. "You're, like, a gazillion years old. You should know better."

I laughed. That was Ash Jericho. Not only was he the blue-eyed, crooked smile, spitting-image of his father, he also had Chris's quick and insulting wit.

_What a fine looking old man he is, if that's the case_, I thought to myself as I crossed the room and took a seat on the sofa.

"It's not my fault that I'm obviously going blind in my old age," Jay retorted with a laugh. "You know, I'll be a gazillion and one at the end of the month."

Ash shrugged in response.

"Whatever makes you feel better, Uncle Jay." He sighed, shaking his head and returning back to coloring.

Jay looked over at me.

"What? No words of encouragement for me, AJ?"

"Eh," I shrugged. "What can I say? The boy's an astute observer."

Jay glowered at me, playfully.

"If I'm a gazillion years old, that means you are, too."

"No, she's not," Ash chimed in, never looking up from his coloring book. "Girls don't grow old like boys do."

Jay grinned as he looked back at the six-year-old.

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting in the floor, coloring with the rest of the group. I could feel Jay staring at me, but I was avoiding eye-contact out of discomfort. I distracted myself by having short three-word sentences with the twins. Even then, I felt Jay's eyes trying to penetrate my flimsy exterior. Didn't his mother ever tell him that it was impolite to stare?

"All right, everyone. Dinner's ready. Jay, would you mind getting the kids settled while I go round up the rest?"

Rosalind had made such a quite entrance into the room that, whenever she spoke, all five of us jumped.

"Yeah, no problem, Ro-Ro," Jay replied and jumped to his feet. "'Kay, kiddos…Let's put everything back where we found it, wash our hands, and get ready for dinner."

"Christopher Keith," Rosalind yelled as she darted down the hallway. "Dinner's ready. I need you, Heather, and Heather's friend front and center."

"Are you gonna sit with us at the kiddy table again this year, Uncle Jay?" Ash was asking as he helped—tried to help—Jay and I stack the coloring books and put the crayons back into their box.

"Probably not," Jay replied. "I haven't broken any of your daddy's things as of late, so I do believe I will be upgraded to the big boy's table."

Ash grumbled in disappointment, grabbed his two sisters' hands, and then led them into the kitchen to wash-up.

"Awww," I looked at Jay with a pouting expression. "It's like he just found out that Santa doesn't exist…I know I said I wouldn't shove you into anything, but maybe I could break a couple of those nice plates in the dinning-room and blame it on you. I don't want the little guy feeling like you've abandoned him."

"The kid's gotta get used to disappointment sometime," Jay laughed as he threw an arm around my shoulder. "Me, I'm going to relish in the fact that my knees won't be up to my chest for a change…Now, come on, let's get in there before all the good seats are taken."


	4. Eggscuse Me?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

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What kind of ignorant jackass wears an Armani suit and tie to a Thanksgiving meal, as if he were attending some kind of business meeting? Answer: Josh Not-Worthy-of-a-Last-Name. Up until this moment, I had never met, nor had I spoken to Josh. I knew a lot about him, thanks to Jay, but I didn't know him on a personal level. However, several minutes after the man (if that's what he preferred to call himself) said my name, I was able to deduce two things: 1) He was the portentous little shit that Jay had said he would be. 2) He really did look like John Stamos circa 1980's.

He was sitting diagonally from me. With his perfectly tanned skin beaming in the sunlight and a phony smile plastered across his face, he chattered about the fascinating life he led as a bank-teller. Clearly he didn't get out much. The whole time he was rambling, I kept itching for a pair of scissors to chop off that hideous shoulder-length black ponytail. It made him look like my androgynous twin; and there was no way in hell I wanted to bear a resemblance to that thing.

For the record, I have a lot of patience for people that are teetering on the edge of a lesser intelligence, but this fellow was irking me in ways that I have never known possible. That being said, once I reach that irk-of-no-return, I can't always control my actions. It's like a fight-or-flight response takes over; therefore, I should not be held accountable for a deviled egg becoming an added accessory to Josh's precious little suit, right?

"Whoa, did you see how high that little sucker flew?" I exclaimed as I watched my perfectly-launched deviled egg slither like a snake down the front of Josh's suit.

Josh looked down at my little present and instantly fell silent. Thank God.

Jay was sitting beside me and nearly choked on mouthful of turkey. He reached for his drink and failed to muffle his laughter before taking a sip of soda.

"Sorry 'bout that, Josh…Hope that suit wasn't too egg-spensive."

I gave him my most innocent stare, just to prove that I could be as disgustingly sweet as he pretended to be.

Jay cackled aloud this time, to which Heather glared at him.

Josh forced a smile, partially gritting his teeth.

"No worries, AJ. I have a couple more where this one came from."

"I bet you do," I muttered as I took a sip of soda. I cast a sideways glance at Jay. For some reason, I got the sinking feeling that Jay's credit card was paying for those suits.

No one spoke for a moment as Josh made an attempt to remove the deviled egg from his suit. He then looked up at me with that smug smile and, in a condescending manner, asked, "So…AJ, you have said much about yourself. What is it that you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

He had already integrated everyone else at the table; and it was either coincidence or on purpose that he had saved me for last. As if it wasn't made obvious already, financially he couldn't hold a flame to either Jay or Chris. Maybe he thought he could with me. Maybe he thought at long last he has found someone that he was better than.

I sat my drinking glass down and stared at him for a moment.

"I'm your worst nightmare," I replied with a sinister grin. "I'm a tax collector."

Josh chuckled. "I bet the husband enjoys that."

My jaw clenched. It was obvious that I wasn't wearing a wedding band. So the hit below the belt was intentional.

"I'm not married, engaged, or otherwise."

Josh took a sip of his drink. His gaze never left mine.

"Oh...Well, I can't say I'm too terribly surprised. 'I'm a tax collector' is not something a man wants to hear on the first date, ya know?"

I could feel Jay flinching next to me. He was seconds from leaping across the table and flogging Josh to death with a turkey leg. I had a brief flashback of the time a guy tried to slip a roofie in my drink at party and Jay caught him in the act. Long story short, said guy ended up picking pieces of a lamp out of the side of his head. Granted, Jay felt bad about it afterward and drove him to the hospital. However, right now…Something told me that Jay would be content at watching Josh bleed to death.

"Josh!" Heather gasped.

Josh gave her an understanding nod and then turned his attention back to me.

"Forgive me," he said, oozing false serenity out of his greasy little pores. "If that was offensive, I apologize."

I gave him a dismissive gesture.

"You're quite right," I said. "It's hard to find someone because of my line of work, but then again, maybe my standards are too high. I mean, I have a Bachelor of Science in Business as well as a Master's of Business Administration in Tax Accounting. Those men that make approximately eleven bucks an hour and dress like you just don't do it for me."

I smirked, having momentarily left him at a loss for words.

"Ashley, Parker—I mean, Josh," Chris finally intervened before things really took a turn for the worst. "I haven't had to tell anyone to stand in the corner in quite a while, but if you two continue with the verbal assaults, I'm going ask you to. This is ridiculous."

Silence followed. Both Josh and I looked down at our plates. I felt Jay squeeze my hand from beneath the table.

Heather nervously reached for a fourth helping of sweet potato casserole. She scraped every last crumb into a mountainous glob on her plate. This unusual act had caught Jay's attention.

"What's ridiculous is the amount of food Heather's consumed in one sitting," Jay eyed his wife with a raised brow. "How in God's name can you eat your weight in turkey and still want more food, woman?"

"What?" She looked at him innocently. "Am I not entitled to eat as much as you usually do?"

"Of course you are," he replied, gesturing to her plate, "but don't you think Mount Sweet Potato Casserole is overkill? You're going to hurl, if you even attempt to polish that off."

"That's nothing new," Heather mumbled. "Of course, had you been around more often, you would have noticed that."

Jay gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

She looked at him and huffed.

"I'm pregnant, you moron!"

"You're w-w-w-w…P-wa-wa-wa-wa…" Jay tried to speak.

I started choking on my soda, so that got his attention momentarily.

Jay just stared at me, watching as the soda slowly cut off my air supply. His eyes rolled back into his head.

He fainted, dragging me with him to the floor.


	5. Life After Death

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

Jay and fatherhood…The two words I had dreaded hearing for the last seventeen years had finally assaulted me with their sudden presence. Although, after the initial shock of Heather's news set in, my body went numb; that helped make my metaphorical death relatively quick and painless. It was life after death that was going to be the most difficult.

My fingers were trembling as I tried to tie my bathing suit top around my neck.

How was I supposed to do this? How was I supposed to go to the beach and pretend that my life hadn't collapsed? Once Jay came to, he seemed ecstatic about the prospect of being a father. So, if I was any friend at all, I should be happy for him, right?

There was a light knock on the bathroom door.

My voice hitched as I forced down the sob lodged in my throat.

"I-I'll be out in a minute, Jay."

"It's not Jay," came the response. "It's Chris. If you're descent, may I come in?"

I swallowed hard and grabbed a hand towel from the rail by the toilet. I put it over my chest in case my top slipped down whenever I let go of the two neck strings.

"Ummm…Yeah, sure..."

Chris cautiously poked his head inside.

"Hey…"

"Ummm…Hey…"

He looked me over for a minute and then stepped inside. He closed the door behind him.

"Are you all right?"

I forced a smile. "Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

Chris eyed me; his piercing blue eyes were filled with compassion.

"You've been in here for twenty minutes," he replied, "and all you've managed to put on is a pair of bathing suit bottoms. I know I'm no authority on the subject, but aren't bathing suits fairly easy to put on?"

"Oh contraire, Mr. Jericho," I laughed. "If a girl has gained weight, some bathing suits are very difficult to put on."

Chris flashed his pearly-whites.

"Well, you don't look a day over a buck-fifty, so weight-gain can't be the problem."

"Eh," I shrugged as I took a seat on the toilet. "Okay, so you're bathroom is way bigger than mine and I thought I'd stay in here awhile longer to marvel at its grandness."

Chris smirked a little, took a few steps forward, and then squatted in front of me. He was staring at me, more than likely searching my eyes for a more logical explanation.

"You don't have to put on a brave face for me, Ashley."

"What do you mean?" I asked, nervously.

He sighed, smiling comfortingly at me.

"You've just found out that the man you're in love with is—God help us all—having a baby with another woman. I think that entitles you to an emotional breakdown."

I stared at him in astonishment.

"Am I that transparent?"

"No…I'm just that observant. I've seen the way you look at him."

I sighed. It was kind of nice to have someone to share my anguish with.

"Are you sure you're up for the beach?" he asked after a moment. "Rosalind and I would completely understand if you didn't want to come. We can drop you off at your place on our way."

"No," I shook my head. "I want to come. I have to come. If I don't, he'll know something's wrong."

Chris stared at me, sympathy gracing his eloquent features. He then stood up, grabbed the two strings that belong to my top, and slowly started tying them around my neck. His hot breath rained down on me as he spoke.

"Jay has made objectifying women a form of art. He views them as sexual party favors for the most part. But you—you're in a category on your own. For as long as I've known you, you've always been in a different category from the rest of the women he has encountered. Never once has he mentioned the size of your 'melons' or whether you have a 'rockin' ass.'"

I looked up at him, puzzled. "O—kay?"

Chris made sure my top was securely in place and then took the hand towel from me. He folded it and placed it back on the rack with its companion.

He turned back to me with a smile.

"That means he has respect for you. More than that, I would venture to say."

That sob started to escalate within my throat.

"What," I cleared my throat, "what am I supposed to do with that information?"

"Nothing," he replied, squatting in front of me once more. "I'm telling you this, so that you can let him go. Now, at least you can take comfort in the fact that, if the timing was right, he would be with you."

"I can't do that, Chris…and that's not very comforting."

Suddenly, I was reminded of the end-scene from _Titanic_. Where Jack had died of hypothermia and his hand had frozen to Rose's. She was forced to let him sink into the depths below in order to save her own life. Had that been me, had that been Jay, I would have chosen to perish with him. Life without Jay isn't a life I want to live. Sure, I suppose I could move on, but it would never be the same…it would never feel the same.

"I know it's going to be difficult. Been there, felt that heartache," Chris said, "but you can't keep doing this to yourself, AJ. If he hasn't admitted his feelings for you during the seventeen years that you've known him, then you and I both know he's not going to…He has a wife and now a family, so that chapter of your life has been forcefully closed. Now you need to open a new one; and I'll help you any way I can."

Two tears slid quietly down my cheeks. I wiped them off with the back of my hand.

"You won't pull a Jay and set me on horrendous blind dates, will you?" I asked, laughing weakly.

"Only as a last resort," he answered with a smile.


	6. The End or The Beginning?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

I thought I could pretend. I thought I could go to the beach, stick my toes in the sand, plaster on a smile, and then everything would appear right in my world. Wrong. As I watched Jay playing with Chris's children, all I could do was picture him playing with his own son or daughter—the son or daughter that was the carbon copy of him and Heather. I would be forced to stomach that for the rest of my life, but I didn't have to stomach it today. I could leave. I could go home, curl up in my bed, watch a black and white film, and temporarily forget this day.

"Are you feeling all right?" Rosalind asked. She was lying next to me, on a beach towel, under the giant umbrella. "You look a little flushed."

"Actually, no I'm not," I answered, trying to force a smile but it ended up being one of those awkward, lopsided grins. "I think I may call it a day. All this salty ocean air is making me nauseous."

"Oh…all right. Let me get Chris. He can give you a ride home."

"No, no," I said as I stood up and shook the sand off of my legs. "Let him have his time with his kids. I'll see if Heather can give me a ride."

I scanned the shore for Heather, but there was no sign of her.

"Wait…Where is she?"

"I think she went to her car to check on Josh. He wasn't feeling well, either. With my luck, I've given everyone food poisoning; and then Josh and his hair will sue me for everything I don't have."

I looked back at her and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"The food was phenomenal, Rosalind," I said, "And if Stamos tries to sue you, I'll just pony up some phony debts that he owes and blackmail him for the rest of his life. However, I don't think that will be necessary. Chris will take him out before I get the chance."

Rosalind glanced at Chris and smiled. He was walking along the edge of the shore. Ash was on his shoulders.

I smiled at her.

It must have been nice to have the man of her dreams right at her fingertips. It must have been nice to have everything. Despite the fact that he already had three children from his previous marriage, I could sense that at least two more were on the horizon. Marriage for Rosalind and Chris was evitable. Then their seemingly flawless relationship would have its perfect ending…or beginning depending on how one looked at it. It made me ill at the thought. The prince and the princess would have a life ripped straight out of a romance novel. Meanwhile, I would gain forty pounds in ten years time and be known on my block as that eccentric lady that adopts kittens in an effort to fill the void of her childless existence.

"Right…well…" I began, upon snapping out of my delusional prediction of my future. "I'm going to go see if she'll give me a ride. Could you tell Jay that I said bye and that I'll try to call him later?"

Rosalind nodded. "Of course…I hope you feel better soon. Again, Happy Thanksgiving…"

"Yeah," I forced a smile, "Happy Thanksgiving."

I gathered what little belongings I had and trudged up the sandy hill, toward the parking-lot.

As I slowly approached the parking area, I could make out two figures leaning against the Resos' vehicle. Heather and Josh appeared to be in a rather heated conversation. It wasn't until I got a little closer that I could hear what was being said. I stopped in my tracks.

"You really should have told me," Josh spat.

"I was going to."

"Yeah…it really looks like you were. What was the plan here, Heather? Were you just going to hope to hell that kid looks nothing like me and that I was going to keep my mouth shut and let you and this guy go about your lives? I'm getting sick of this hot and cold shit. You either want to be with me or you don't. Which is it?"

"You're twenty-four years old and a god damned bank teller for Christ's sake, Josh. There is no way you could provide for this baby."

"Oh, so this is about money, is it? Jesus, Heather could you be any more materialistic. Those nights when you're at home alone, who fed you? Who let you stay over at his apartment? You're telling me you would rather wallow in solitary confinement than be with someone. You said it yourself. Jay's never around."

My mouth hung open. This couldn't be Heather, not the Heather that I knew. The Heather that I knew worshipped the ground Jay walked on. She would never cheat on him; especially with a pompous ass like Josh. I had two choices to make: I could make my presence known and jump into the middle of something I had no business being in, or make my presence known and rip out Heather's hair extensions one by one.

No. I would do neither. I would retreat. I would slowly back away and then run like hell. I would run back to Jay—I would protect Jay. Just because I couldn't have my happy ending didn't mean that he shouldn't have his. He wanted that baby; and if I had any say, he would have that baby. Jay could not go through what Chris went through. I wasn't going to let him. So I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

"Trashcan, I need a trashcan," I said to the man that was manning the concession stand. I was panting and dry-heaving simultaneously.

The man quickly handed me the small trashcan behind the bar. In front of several costumers and a few people passing by, I vomited.

"Hey, kid."

I jerked my head up to meet Jay's concerned gaze. I bit my lip. His lean, damp, muscular physique was glistening in the afternoon sun. I ducked my head back into the trashcan.

"Rosalind said you were sick. Did you not find Heather and Stamos?"

"I did," I replied, looking sheepishly up at him.

"Is she giving you a ride home or do I need to?"

"I changed my mind," I answered. "I'm fine. I want to stay awhile longer."

That was laughable—just like the expression across Jay's face.

"You don't look fine," he said.

"Nonsense," I laughed, handing the concession man the trashcan full of my Thanksgiving feast. "I was just preparing myself for a career in fashion modeling."

Jay raised a brow and smirked.

"I see…Or is that your cover-story for being pregnant, too?" he laughed tensely. "Please, tell me you're not. I don't think I could wrap my head around it, if you were."

"No," I replied with a faint laugh. "I'm not pregnant."

"Good." He breathed a sigh of relief. He gestured to the concession stand. "Can I get you anything? Water? Sprite?"

I shook my head, which didn't help the nausea. "Although, I can't lie, a cold compress would be pretty awesome."

Jay pursed his lips, thought for a moment, and then ran his hand through his wet hair. He waved that hand rapidly through the air.

I eyed him, confused.

"Come here," he said, opening his arm free arm to me.

I knew getting close to him was a bad idea, but my legs have a mind of their own. I stepped into his embrace. The open arm latched around my waist.

"I don't have a cold compress, but maybe this'll help." He said as he pressed the hand he had been shaking to my forehead. It was damp and cool.

My knees buckled.

"Feel better?" he asked, his chest vibrating against my shoulder.

"S-sure," was all I could manage to get out.

He grinned and guided my head to rest against his shoulder.

"We can take a walk around the shore until you get to feeling better," he suggested and coerced me into moving. With my head on his shoulder and hand his still on my forehead, we slowly walked back to the beach.


	7. Plato vs Aristotle

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

In my black silk robe, I curled up on my sofa and attempted to wind down, but that was like attempting to sleep during a heavy metal concert. Today had been the worst day of my life—the worst Thanksgiving of my life. Jay had been nothing but a sweet, perfect little gentleman the entire time we were at the beach. On the way back to my house, he even sat in the backseat with me and allowed me to put my head in his lap so that I could try to take a nap—well, pretend to take a nap. How could I get any sleep with an adulteress and her lover in the front seats?

Being so kind and not making any wise-cracks was out of character for Jay. I was hoping he would say something or do something to upset me. I wanted to get angry at him, so I could avoid him for a little while. If I could avoid him, I could get my emotions under control. Right now, every time I looked at Jay all I wanted to do was shout that his wife was a bottom-feeding, low-life, cankerous whore. That wouldn't bode well. Oh, what a cross to bear. If I told Jay, he would be devastated. If I didn't tell him, and he found out on his own, he would be devastated. What was I supposed to do?

I needed a drink, but I no longer consumed alcohol. I figured my liver had taken enough abuse in college. So I settled for a giant bag of barbequed potato chips and a two-liter bottle of coca-cola. I'll admit that this wasn't my finest hour but I wasn't out to impress anyone, so what did it matter? Maybe, if I was lucky, I would eat myself into an early grave.

I flipped on my television. And who was gracing my screen with his presence? John Stamos. It was a re-run of _Full House_. I snarled and rolled my eyes.

"Jackass," I mumbled and changed the channel.

I stopped on this past week's re-run of Extreme Championship Wrestling. Jay was making his entrance to the ring. Watching this was going to be a form of Chinese torture, but I didn't care. I reached for the box of tissues on my coffee table, just in case I burst into tears.

Jay's entrance theme seemed to be serenading me.

_"…And you'll find me there. You'll see if you just close your eyes."_

I closed mine.

That's how I would cope with this. I would close my eyes and envision the life that I wanted. A life that was more realistic and less like a World Wrestling Entertainment storyline.

I cried out, startled by a loud knock at my front door.

I debated on not answering it. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some serial rapist pretending that his car had stalled in an effort to get into my house and sexual assault me on my kitchen floor. Okay, so the odds of something like that actually occurring in Odessa were slim to none, but with my luck, it was possible.

The knocks grew louder; and then I heard the voice.

"AJ, it's me."

"Jay?"

I turned my television off, slowly stood up, and made sure that my robe was tightly closed. I wandered out of the living-room and to the door.

Jay was standing on my front porch, drenched with rain water. He looked as though he had just watched his Chihuahua being punted across a football field. He sighed when he saw me.

"Hey…"

"Hey…"

"I didn't wake you up did I?"

"No."

Jay was silent for a second and shuffled uncomfortably.

"Uh…May I come in?"

"Of course, of course," I said, stepping aside to let him in. "Go into the kitchen, though. You'll get water all over my carpet."

He nodded, stepped inside, and then slipped off his shoes and placed them by the door. He stared at me a moment. I saw the sadness flash across his eyes. Oh no.

"Jay, what's—"

He cut me off.

"I kicked myself out of the house."

I blinked, surprised.

"Why? What happened?"

Jay sighed.

"Let's just say Josh was the topic of discussion…If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about it right now."

I pursed my lips and nodded.

"Well, come on, we need to get you out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia."

Jay followed me into the kitchen. I flipped on the light. When I turned around, I went faced-first into Jay's wet chest.

"Oh," I leapt back a little bit.

I looked up at Jay.

His expression was cold, vacant. He was just the shell of the Jay I knew.

"Strip," I squeaked, looking down at his wet dress shirt.

"What?" He looked at me, surprised.

"Strip," I repeated. I could feel my face turning red. "I can't put your clothes in the dryer with you in them, so strip."

"Oh…Right."

Without giving me much notice, he started unbuttoning his shirt in front of me. I felt awkward standing there, gawking as he undressed. So I turned around.

"I'm…uh," I stammered. Despite that I wasn't facing him; I could feel him staring at me. "Let me go get you a towel."

"Thanks."

Without looking at him, I ducked out of the room and quickly bound up the stairs to the bathroom.

When I returned, he was standing in just his briefs in the middle of my kitchen.

"Do you want me to put this in the dryer and get it warm for you?" I asked as I held out a yellow folded towel.

"No," he forced a smile. "Thank you anyway."

I traded the towel for his wet clothes.

"Have a seat," I said, gesturing to the bar. "I'll go put these in the dryer and I'll be right back."

He nodded.

I was momentarily mesmerized as I watched Jay patting himself dry. I quickly snapped out of it and darted down the hallway, toward my laundry room. I quickly threw his clothes in the dryer and rushed back into the kitchen. I wanted to make sure he hadn't attempted to hang himself from my pots and pans rack.

Jay looked so pitiful sitting at my bar. He had his head in his hands, sighing periodically.

"Can I get you anything else?" I asked, cautiously crossing the room.

Jay turned to me and stared for a moment.

"You wouldn't happen to have any tequila, would you?"

I frowned.

"No…I'm sorry."

"Milk will do then."

"All right…No problem."

I went to the refrigerator, pulled out my gallon of milk, and then reached into the sink for two clean drinking glasses. My robe slid up a little bit. I gasped, knowing that Jay got a pretty good shot of my lace underwear.

"Whoa…draft," I said, reaching behind myself.

Jay chuckled.

"Well, it was a nice draft. What is that…Victoria's Secret?"

"Yeah," I laughed.

"I thought so…It was in last month's issue."

"Why does it not surprise me that you're a subscriber?"

Jay chuckled again.

I poured milk into the two glasses, put the milk jug back into the refrigerator, and then handed Jay his glass. I took a seat on the bar stool next to him.

We drank our milk in complete silence.

"Can I ask you for another favor?" Jay asked in a soft voice.

"Sure."

"I'm going to need a place to stay…just for tonight. I have an early flight in the morning, so I won't have to stay long. I just…" He trailed off.

"Hey," I held up my hand and gave him a comforting smile. "You don't even have to ask and you can stay as long as you want, Jay. You know that."

"Thanks." He gave me a smile in return. "Where would I be without you?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, causing my robe to slip off my shoulder.

"Probably sitting under a microscopic lamp looking for portraits of famous people in your snot rockets, but that's just an educated guess."

Jay laughed tensely, eyeing my bare shoulder.

I froze; his fingers grazed my skin as he pulled my robe back over my shoulder. I stared at him a moment and then gulped.

"It was about you, too," he said suddenly. "The argument, I mean. It was about you...for the first half-hour anyway."

"Why? What did I do?" I looked away from his gaze.

"Nothing," he replied. "I just told Heather that I didn't think she should have allowed Josh get away with what he said to you…I mean, I know I wasn't exactly your knight and shining armor, but don't think I wouldn't have knocked him flat. I just didn't want to do it in front of Chris's kids…I told Heather if she was any kind of friend to you, she would have told that asshole where to step off."

Screw friendship. I could care less about my relationship with her at this point.

"I really, really hate that guy." He growled. "He's such a snot-nosed kid."

Speaking of kids…

"I don't even know why she'd want him in her life and around our family. He's like a plague or something plague-like...He's pretty much anything that causes death and destruction."

"Jay…" My voice hitched.

I knew I would regret this.

"There's something I need to tell you, but I'm not sure how I should because I'm not even sure if I should be the one telling you it. I just have a feeling you're not going to hear from anyone else; and I can't stand the thought of you being hurt any more than you already are…God, now I'm just dragging this out, aren't I?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I couldn't tell him this while I was looking at him.

"Earlier this afternoon, at the beach, when I went to see if Heather would give me a ride home, I saw her at the Sedan with Josh. They didn't know I was there, but I overheard them talking and—"

My eyes shot open as I felt Jay put his finger to my lips.

"I know, AJ," he said grimly. "I know the baby isn't mine. She's almost two months apparently…If it were mine, she would have told me long before now…That was the other reason we fought…I told her there was no point in hiding it from me, because I would have figured it out eventually."

I was utterly confused. How could he be so eerily calm about this situation?

"So, I take it you know that it's Josh's?"

Jay pursed his lips and nodded.

"I told you I thought they were too close," he sighed. "Tonight…When Heather told me that she thought she was in love with him, do you have any idea how that felt? It was like…It was like…I was fly that had just collided, head-on, with the windshield of life; and the last thing that went through my mind was my ass—my stupid, stupid ass, man! God, you probably think I'm pathetic, huh?"

"No…I don't think you're pathetic at all. She had me snowed, too."

He ignored me and continued ranting.

"There were signs. I know there were signs, but I just didn't see them. I should have seen them, but I didn't. Maybe if I had been home more, like she said, I would have noticed, and she wouldn't have run into the arms of some twenty-four-year-old hippy with a promise."

"Jay…" I sighed, running my fingers through his wet locks. "None of this is your fault. Heather knew full-well what she was getting into when she married you. If she suddenly can't handle the alone time, that's her problem."

Jay looked at me out of the corner of his eye. He reached up and grabbed my hand. He gave it a hard squeeze. His jaw clenched tightly and then his other fist slammed against the granite countertop.

I yelped, startled.

"She pissed me off so bad that I couldn't even look at her." He shouted for no apparent reason. "All I kept doing was picturing her with him—kissing him, touching him, whispering to him the sweet little nothings that she used whisper to me."

I didn't move. I couldn't move. My hand was still pinned tightly against the top of his head.

He pounded the countertop with his fist again.

Growling in frustration, he bowed his head. Both of his hands latched firmly around mine; and he rested his elbows on top of the bar.

"I had my flaws. I'll admit I was a bit of a horndog," he yelled once more, "but I was a good husband, dammit! I was a good husband!"

"I know you were." I squeaked and shuffled uncomfortably as his grip on my hand tightened. I knew he would never hurt me, but I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a wee bit frightened by his behavior.

He peered at me through the triangular space created by his bent arm and his bicep. His eyes were dark, a deep shade of forest green. Then, for a split-second, the dark shroud that was haunting his once friendly face seemed to disappear. My Jay snuck to the surface. He gave me a remorseful look and turned me loose, but not before kissing the palm of my hand.

I slowly pulled my hand back and wiggled my fingers. Nothing was broken.

"Sorry." Jay said, looking at my hand as I rested it on the countertop.

I politely rebuffed his unnecessary apology with a shrug.

"Do you feel better?"

He smiled slightly.

"A little bit, yeah."

"Good."

I don't know why but I kissed his temple. Jay and I had been the most affectionate we had ever been today. After the evening he had had, I assumed that he was looking for all the love he could get. He had come to that right place.

We were silent again. I could tell that he was simmering down. Stress still creased his brow, but he was slowly starting to look like himself.

"Well…" He sighed, throwing his arm around my shoulders. "I'm about one Backstreet Boys song away from having a good cry. So before I totally make an ass of myself, let's change the subject. Tell me about you."

"What about me?" I laughed lightly, turning to look at him.

Jay was silent for a moment as he pretended to dwell on his question.

"Hmmm…Knocked boots with anyone lately?"

"Jay!" I shrilled, laughing as I shoved him away from me.

He gave me an innocent look. "What?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"A good one," he answered with a laugh. "I've had an extremely upsetting evening, so it would be nice to know that one of us is getting lucky."

Jay's eyes traveled up my legs, to my robe. He flashed me a boyish smirk.

"Judging by the unexpected peep show, I'd say you have been a busy little thing at some point. No woman wears underwear like unless she intends for some guy to see it."

I blushed and pushed him playfully.

"Didn't you hear me earlier today?" I asked. 'I'm not married, engaged, or otherwise.' I thought that implied that I wasn't dating anyone?"

Jay chuckled, shaking his head as he downed the last of his milk.

"What?"

"AJ, AJ, AJ." He made a tisk-tisk sound and sighed. "Have you learned nothing from me? You don't have to be dating someone in order to get a piece of ass. One-night stands are marvelous little encounters that satisfy one's sexual needs without establishing any kind of commitment. You're thirty-five. You should know this by now."

I rolled my eyes.

"Call me old-fashion for wanting a commitment before I toss my goodies at the next putz I see. I'm getting a little too old to be doing that teenager song and dance."

"Maybe so," Jay shrugged, "but don't you dare think that I believe all that malarkey you were feeding Stamos today. I bet you my next paycheck that you have those stool pigeons at your office salivating over you."

I avoided eye contact for a moment and then smiled.

"I don't date anyone from work. That proves to be problematic in the end."

"But you have dated?"

I scrunched my brow at him and giggled.

"Yes, I have."

Jay smiled, leaning back a little bit.

"So, have you met someone that I can intimidate yet?"

"No," I laughed, which was followed by a sigh. "I mean, there was this one guy that I was seeing regularly, but…"

"But what?"

I shrugged. "I don't know…He just couldn't measure up."

"He couldn't measure up to what?"

"You..."

The conversation had been flowing so casually that I hadn't even realized that I was thinking aloud.

"Excuse me?" Jay laughed nervously.

I looked at him befuddled and completely oblivious.

"What?"

"You just said he couldn't measure up to…to me."

My eyes widened. I gasped and clamped my hands over my mouth, as if that would somehow retract what had come out of it.

As quickly as the tension in the air had disappeared, it reappeared with a vengeance. This time it seemed to be thicker than before.

While I was muttering some explanation that he couldn't hear, Jay just stared blankly at me.

Then it happened…he smiled. He reached over and slowly pried my hands away from my mouth. He gently folded them and placed them in my lap.

I stared at him, panic-stricken.

"You know," he began, speaking in a soothing tone, "you really shouldn't compare me to other guys. One, I'm a horrible example to follow. Two, that kind of analytical behavior will only lead you to settling for second-best some time down the road. You don't want that, believe me."

"I-I don't understand?" I stuttered incoherently.

Jay was silent for a minute or two. He drummed his fingers on the countertop.

"Evil brings men together."

"Huh?"

I practically admitted to being in love with him and all he could do was spout random proverbs. What the hell?

"I swore up, down, and sideways that Plato coined that phrase," he laughed, recalling some distant memory. "I spent twenty minutes arguing with my study group over the matter. Then the raven-haired, hazel-eyed vixen that always sat next to me during class, finally turned to me, and said, 'That was Aristotle, you dumbshit. Now shut the hell up so we can go over the rest of the material.'"

Jay laughed again at the thought.

"I gotta admit I was hooked right then. How can a man not love a girl that's not afraid to put him in his place? Anyway, a few days after that, we went out for coffee. I said it was to discuss classwork, but really I just wanted to see her again…To tell you the truth, I hate coffee, but any time she wanted to go, I went… Man, she was something else…We had a pretty good thing going, this girl and me. We went to parties and had a blast, but I always chickened out. Eight years later, I ended up marrying her best friend and now here I am…This is what happens when you settle for second-best."

I was breathless for moment. Was he saying what Chris said he would never say? I looked at him, searching his expression for some kind of reassurance.

"Yes," he nodded. "I'm a closet hopeless romantic, too."

I blinked. My mouth was moving, but no words were following.

Jay groaned.

"Awesome! I've made everything awkward between us. Way to go, Jay!"

I shook my head and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.

"Why?" I asked. My voice trembled slightly, "Why didn't you come to me with this before now?"

Jay shrugged in response.

"I guess I thought you were way out of my league."

"Me?" I made some sort of sound. It was a something in between nervous laughter and a hysterical sob. "You thought that I was out of you're league? You were the one that was going to become this huge professional wrestling star, jet-set around the world, and make millions. If anything, you were out of my league."

Jay diverted his eyes from mine for a moment; and then he let out a hard laugh.

"Dude, to be as close as we are, we've got some shitty communication skills."

I couldn't help laughing myself.

"I'll say."

"We may want to work on that."

I eyed him anxiously. My heart rate promptly sped up.

"Oh, and what do you propose?"

"Well…" Jay licked his lips. He leaned over and lifted my chin to meet his mouth. The kiss was soft and brief…too brief. He pulled back and stared at me. I suppose he was testing the waters, seeing if the feelings were still there.

I licked my lips, as if to savor the taste. I had waited seventeen years for that moment, so I wanted it implanted into my memory bank.

Jay smiled and placed another peck across my lips, and then another and another…until his animalistic instincts took over. He kissed me deeply, recklessly. His arm slipped around my waist and he pulled me to the edge of my bar stool. I grunted as I fell against him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

After what felt like an eternity in Heaven, Jay broke the kiss, practically gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead against mine. His lips were parted and pressed lovingly to mine. They were moving in unison with our erratic breathing patterns. Once enough air hit his lungs, Jay crushed his lips again with more fervor than the last time.

We both moaned.

Jay's fingers slid gracefully down the side of my face and to the edge of my robe. His hand slipped beneath it. I figured if I gave him an inch…he would try to grope me like a pubescent schoolboy. However, he didn't. With his right arm still securely around my waist, he used his left hand to caress my backside. He started at the base of my neck and moved down my spine. That's when something snagged my bra clasp…Jay's wedding ring.

The reality of the situation hit. I stiffened and tried to pry myself away from Jay. He so embroiled in our accumulating passion that he was unaware that I was starting to resist. I did the only thing I could think of. I slid off the stool and forcefully pushed him away. I must have pushed him a little too hard, because he lost his balance and plummeted to the floor. The bar stool toppled over onto him.

"What the hell, AJ?" He shrieked, looking up at me with a shocked and bewildered expression across his face.

"Sorry. Sorry," I uttered as I backed away from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"This," I replied, gesturing to myself and then to him. "Us…What are we doing? This isn't right. This isn't right at all."

Jay put the stool back into an upright position and scrambled to his feet. The lighting in the room seemed to accentuate his muscular body. Almost in slow motion, he hesitantly advanced forward.

I froze in place.

"What are you talking about, babe? It was feeling pretty damn right from where I was sitting."

"Yes, it felt right," I agreed, while at the same time shaking my head, "but feeling right and being right are two different things, Jay."

As he started getting closer to me, I took a couple more steps back. If he got close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body, I would have no self-control. I would want to do things, inappropriate things—things that would make an adult-film star uncomfortable.

Jay stopped when he noticed that I was somewhat retreating. So he respectfully kept his distance. He cocked his head to the side.

"AJ, babe, you're making about as much sense as Richard Simmons tipping strippers in titty bar," he said with a teasing laugh.

"Jay," I groaned. "Don't joke. I'm trying to be serious…Whether you want to admit it or not, you're very vulnerable right now. I'm not about to take advantage of that; and despite that your marriage is indeed crumbling, you're still a married man."

My eyes fell to his wedding ring. He followed my gaze and frowned.

"Right," he sighed heavily.

He let out a loud groaned as he looked at me.

"I guess there's only one thing to do."

I closed my robe and tied it tightly around my waist.

"What's that?" I asked, looking up at him.

Jay slipped his wedding band off his finger, examined it for a second, and then slung it across the room. It ricocheted off the corner of the wall and landed somewhere in the hallway.

"There," he grinned in satisfaction. "No more married man. Free at last, free at last! Thank my wife's lying, cheating ass! I'm free at last!"

I threw back my head and laughed.

"I wish it were that simple, Dr. Reso," I smiled as I slowly started inching toward him. "Even though the ring is gone, there's still legal documentation."

Jay huffed in response.

"Picky…picky…Seventeen years worth of repressed sexual tension, and you're going to let one minor detail hold us back another day?"

"Jay," I frowned, standing a few feet from him. My arms were folded across my chest.

"I'm kidding," he chuckled. He put his hands around my waist and pulled me closer to him. "You're right. I need to get my other stuff in order before I open this can of worms."

"Oh, so I'm a can of worms now?"

He rolled his eyes and smirked. "You know what I mean."

I sighed and wrapped my arms around Jay's midsection. I was waiting to hear my alarm clock sound. I was waiting to be ripped away from this fantastical dream, but I wasn't. I could hear the fast rhythm of Jay's heart and I could feel his gentle touch as he stroked my hair…I was wide awake.

"Hey, AJ?" he murmured.

"Hmm-hmm…"

"With a strict look-touch-but-go-no-further policy in place, would getting better acquainted with your pals from Victoria's Secret still be considered cheating?"

I giggled and seductively stepped away from him. I placed one of the ends of my robe's waist tie into his right hand. I pulled back, so that the robe loosened a little.

Jay swallowed hard.

"Oh," I flashed him a wicked grin, "I think that's feasible, very feasible."

Jay, like a dog on a leash, followed me out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the bedroom.


	8. Every Heart Sings a Song

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

**Author's Note: I know this chapter is short, but that's because it's the last. I'm not sure if I will write more about these two in follow-up story, but I want to thank everyone that's been reading. You rock!**

* * *

Intimacy without sex is said to be the foundation for creating a solid relationship. Jay and I slipped into that profound level of romanticism rather easily. Granted, if he had kept teasing my body with those sweet kisses and decided that he couldn't stay true to his look-touch-but-go-no-further rule, I would have had no qualms about him putting my toes past my ears and pounding me into oblivion.

It had been a long time since I shared my bed with a man. It had been a long time since I had a man wrap his arms around me, put his chin in the crook of my neck, and whisper corny jokes into my ear. Okay, so no man had ever done that last part. No man, except Jay. We must have talked for hours, as if we were two former friends catching up on old times. Then I ended up falling asleep in his arms. It was blissful, absolutely blissful.

My alarm clock sounded and I roused from my semi-conscious state of sleep.

I smiled and rolled over.

Jay was gone.

I needed to be at the office by eight. Jay had said that he had an early flight; but seeing as though he hadn't brought any luggage with him last night, he probably had to get up earlier to go back home to get his belongings.

I frowned. He still could have told me good-bye.

Oh well, he had never been a tactful person when it came to the customaries.

I laughed at the thought and got out of bed to go shower.

I dressed in my traditional white-collared, black suit ensemble and looked at myself in my full-length mirror as I pulled my hair into a bun. It was a good thing Jay wasn't here. He always teased me about my work clothes. According to him, I looked like "such a schoolmarm." I let go of my hair, letting it fall to my shoulders. I felt invigorated this morning, so maybe Ms. Schoolmarm should spice things up. I left my hair down, sprayed a little perfume on my neck, and added some make-up. Having a man (albeit a married man) in my life seemed to boost my self-worth.

After another glance in the mirror, I headed downstairs.

My kitchen was spotless, as if Jay had never been there. The bar stools were in order and our milk glasses from last night had been washed. In fact, all the dishes in my sink had been washed and put away. Laying on the countertop of the bar was a folded piece of white computer paper; a sterling sliver wedding ring was placed on top of it to hold it closed.

I smiled. So he did say good-bye after all.

I crossed the room and took a seat at the bar. I picked up Jay's wedding band and slipped it on my ring-finger. It was about two sizes too big, but still it was fun to fantasize that it belonged to me. Mrs. Ashley Papadakos Reso.

I laughed aloud at the thought, slipped the ring off my finger, and set it aside. I opened the note that Jay had left. It read:

**_"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."_**

**_— Plato_**

**_You can't fight me on this one. I looked it up._**

**_— Jay_**

"Smartass," I laughed as I folded the note.

I looked over at Jay's wedding ring again and grinned.

I could proudly call that smartass mine…at last.


End file.
